


After the After Party

by elthedane



Category: The Boys (Comics), The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Dark, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elthedane/pseuds/elthedane
Summary: On the Strip, the Seven are entertainment royalty. However, the real entertainment doesn’t happen during the shows, but in the exclusive after-parties. But when a powerful VIP guest is found gruesomely murdered, even the Seven aren’t beyond the reach of the FBI. Especially when detective Billy Butcher is out for blood.(Alternate Universe)
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Homelander, Hughie Campbell/Starlight | Annie January, Queen Maeve/Starlight | Annie January, The Deep | Kevin/The Homelander | John, The Homelander | John/Madelyn Stillwell, The Homelander | John/Starlight | Annie January
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	1. STARLIGHT: Welcome Day

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is mainly an introduction to the AU. Shit hits the fan in the next ones, don't worry. 
> 
> TW: non-con oral sex

“So, _Starlight,_ is it?” A cold female voice asked. Annie straightened up in her chair, the hair on the back of her neck rising slightly. Her heart was beating to hard she could feel it in her shoulder.

“That’s my stage name, but my real name’s –“

“No one cares, kid.”

Annie swallowed hard and held her breath for a moment in an attempt to ease her nerves. She recognized the beautiful redhead as Queen Maeve, one of the Seven’s most established members. Was she supposed to play cool and ask her name? No, that would be stupid. But she also couldn’t go full super-fan on her…

“God, please tell me you’re not slow,” Maeve sighed, “you won’t last very long if you are.”

“N-no,” Annie flashed a nervous smile, “just a bit nervous, I guess. I mean, you’re _Queen Maeve_ , and I think I just walked past _Homelander_ ’s changeroom on my-“

“Fucking _stop_ , please,” Maeve groaned. Annie felt the blood rush to her face. Maeve’s face softened slightly.

“Just follow me. We don’t have much time before the show,” Maeve said, tilting her head towards the door.

_The show_. There it was again, the swarm of butterflies in Annie’s stomach. She couldn’t even count the number of times she’d stopped in front of the Vought Centre and imagined what it would be like to be up on that stage, a _real performer_ , not just another dancer chasing after a fantasy.

Maeve led Annie down the hall at a rapid pace, leaving her eyes to scan frantically, trying to drink in every detail of the place. The walls held photos of the Seven, dating all the way back to the formation of the Vought Entertainment Company. Homelander’s magnetic smile was featured in them all.

“I saved for weeks to come to one of your shows,” Annie said. She hoped making conversation would help with the nerves.

“It was the first weekend of last August, I don’t know if you remember, but Black Noir-“

“The show where he made it look like he killed me?” Maeve said.

“Yes!” Annie’s voice cracked with excitement, “I checked the news every day! I thought for sure-“

“He’s an illusionist, Starlight, that’s what he does,” Maeve shrugged. Annie nodded.

“Of course, yeah,” Annie said. She vividly remembered the anxiety she’d felt sitting in the audience, quiet confusion overtaking everyone in the room as Queen Maeve lay still and the lights went dark. It wasn’t until a week later when the ads for Maeve’s show were displayed front and centre in front of Vought that Annie truly realized it was all part of the act.

“I watched your tape, by the way,” Maeve said, “you’re good. Maybe a little small-town-girl-in-the-city, but good.”

“Thanks! That means so much to me, coming from you,” Annie said, her face splitting into a smile. Annie thought she saw Maeve roll her eyes.

Maeve pushed open a set of double doors. They creaked as they opened and led into a dark, curtained area. _Holy crap, I’m backstage_. Annie took a deep breath and held it for a count of three. The chaos of the place was almost overwhelming. People were bustling about with props, yelling into phones and headsets about subpar costumes, lighting issues, or some other last-minute crisis.

“Maeve! Why aren’t you in hair and makeup?” Annie recognized the voice as Ashley, one of the people who’d interviewed her for the job.

“I’m giving the new girl the tour,” Maeve explained. Ashley’s eyes bulged. Annie could feel the anxiety coming off her in waves.

“I thought Homelander was supposed to do that,” Ashley’s attempt at being nonchalant failed miserably. She reminded Annie of one of those toy frogs you squeeze to make the eyes pop out, if it were overdosing on caffeine and Adderall.

“He wasn’t feeling up to it,” Maeve said. Ashley shook her head and exclaimed angrily.

“Goddammit! If this is about that stupid flag again, I swear…” She bustled away as fast as she came, swiftly disappearing among the rest of the crew.

“Is Homelander okay?” Annie asked. Maeve laughed harshly and shook her head. Then the laughter grew softer, as if sharing an inside joke with herself.

“He’ll be fine,” Maeve said shortly. She grabbed Annie by the arm to lead her across the backstage area.

Maeve outlined all the operations of show preparation so quickly that Annie could feel her head spinning. Seeing everything up close was overwhelming, surreal. She couldn’t decide what was the most exciting; that the Deep’s sea creatures had their own rooms, there was a network of hidden entrance and exit tunnels, or that there was a dressing room set aside especially for her. In her years of dancing, she’d never had her own dressing room. It had her _name_ on it, for God’s sake.

“You’ll have an hour between the show and the post-show,” Maeve said in her usual casual tone, “it sounds longer than it is, you’ll want to have everything laid out in advance.”

“Post-show?” Annie asked. Maeve raised her eyebrows and clicked her tongue slightly.

“Where did you say you used to work?”

“I danced at the Harlequin? I opened for Lamplighter?” Annie said. She hadn’t meant it to come out as a question, but Maeve’s tone was making her nervous. Maeve’s eyes wandered over Annie’s small frame.

“Hmm.”

“What’s the post-show?” Annie asked again. Maeve opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead made a ‘come with me’ motion with her head and lead Annie down a narrow hallway.

Maeve opened the door to a neon-lit nightclub. It was empty except for the bartenders preparing for the night. Dance music played quietly from the speakers, where it would no doubt boom later in the night. Spotlights roamed around the stages, glinting off the poles and cages mounted throughout the club. _No fucking way_.

“Wait, the Seven are… strippers?” Annie asked, flushing red at the words. Maeve laughed, but the sound was harsh.

“You really don’t know anything about Vought Entertainment, do you?” Maeve shook her head, “people don’t pay the kind of money they pay just to see a few dancers and illusionists. They pay for the _experience_ with someone they shouldn’t be able to have. The full experience.”

“What does that mean?”

“Fucking hell,” Maeve sighed, “here’s the thing: the headline shows don’t mean shit in the big scheme. You think millionaires show up here to watch me beat the shit out of a few guys? Or Deep makes some dolphins jump through hoops? Please. The real money comes from the VIP’s. The post-show is just for them.”

Annie’s stomach dropped. That couldn’t mean what she thought it meant. Maeve walked around one of the raised stages, her hand reaching out to brush against a pole.

“Then there’s the Diamond members,” Maeve continued. There was a slight glimmer in her eye as she spoke, “executives, CEO’s, celebrities, you get the idea. Vought offers full confidentiality. Diamond members get whatever they want.”

Maeve’s eyes flickered to the curtained hallway in the leftmost corner of the room. Annie felt a lump rise in her throat. This couldn’t be right. This was the Seven! The best entertainers the Strip had to offer. This was supposed to be her big break, the job that meant she’d finally made it. There’s was no way this was just another stripping gig. No goddamn way.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“I can’t tell if you’re stupid or just really naïve,” Maeve snapped. Annie clenched her jaw and bit her bottom lip.

“You’re seriously telling me that after his show, _Homelander_ gets up here-“

“Fuck,” Maeve chuckled, “Homelander’s been around since Vought was a sketchy strip club owner’s pipe dream. You’d be surprised.”

“But he’s so-“

“Here’s a tip to survive in the Seven, okay?” Maeve said, “don’t pretend to know us. Oh, and drop the bright-eyed bushy-tailed bullshit. You won’t fool anyone here.”

\-----------

It had been three days since Annie signed the Vought contract. Since then, she’d felt like a pageant girl all over again, told to shut up and look pretty and rehearse until she was about to pass out. One day her hair was too short, the other day it was too dark or too blonde. The only thing that was consistent was that nothing was ever right. Ashley had been her main point of contact, but the criticisms were Madelyn’s. Annie could tell.

Her first show was tomorrow. She was scheduled to follow A-Train. Annie remembered watching A-Train on TV when she first hitched her way to Vegas. He’d been in some renowned youth dance crew called Teenage Kix before that whole drug scandal dissolved the group. She’d seen them on Jimmy Kimmel a few times too… or was it Jimmy Fallon? Either way, it was intimidating.

Annie checked her watch and paled. How was it already 10:33? She was supposed to be in a meeting with the Seven since 10:30. _Oh no, no, no_. So much for making a good impression. She sprinted down the hallway, almost knocking over a cardboard cutout of the Deep with his dolphin.

“I’m so sorry,” Annie panted as she burst through the door. Whatever excuse she’d been thinking of using was lost as she caught her breath.

“Starlight! I was wondering when you’d join us,” Homelander said. He was smiling but it wasn’t quite reaching his piercing blue eyes. He was a lot more intimidating in person than Annie had anticipated. Every time she’d seen him on posters or on talk shows, he always seemed warm and happy, almost the human equivalent of a golden retriever. The energy surrounding him now was anything but.

“I know you didn’t mean to disrespect all of our time,” Homelander said, gesturing to the rest of the Seven seated around the table, “and maybe you’re used to people waiting around for you at the _Harlequin,_ ” the hair on Annie’s neck stood up as he spoke, though he was still smiling and looking for the most part unbothered, “but we take punctuality very seriously in the Seven. Not a great way to start off your time here.”

Homelander clicked his tongue repeatedly, sizing her up.

“Sorry, Homelander,” Annie said, taking a seat at the only open chair in the meeting room.

“Not just me,” Homelander inclined his head towards the other side of the table. Annie’s face flushed bright red. She could feel her pulse in her cheeks and neck.

“S-sorry, everyone. Won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” Homelander said. Something about his tone made it feel like a warning. This wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured the Seven, especially Homelander. In fact, the past three days had been almost the complete opposite of her fantasies.

“So! Now that we’re all here…” Homelander rubbed his hands together, then splayed them out to gesture to them all. In person, she couldn’t help but think his wide, welcoming smile seemed painfully forced.

“Black Noir, solid performances, as always,” he paced around to stand at the head of the table, “can’t say the same for you, Deep.”

“What about me?” the Deep asked. There was an edge to his voice that Annie couldn’t quite place. It definitely was more than just respect.

“Well…” Homelander said, “is there literally nothing else you can do besides teach dolphins tricks? It’s getting pretty old, don’t you think?” His blue eyes narrowed slightly, and a thin smile crossed his face a beat too late to be sincere.

“Uh… I-“ the Deep struggled to find his words for a moment, and Homelander waved a hand in dismissal.

“Just spice it up,” Homelander said, “bad ratings on the Seven are bad ratings on me. That goes for all of you. We’re a team here, which means one weak link drags the rest of us down with her,” His eyes locked on Annie’s and her stomach dropped. She hadn’t even been on stage yet, how was she a weak link?

Homelander continued with notes on the past shows and suggestions for everyone’s acts. Annie could feel a strange tension and unease in the room. Her instincts were telling her to run, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on why.

“Oh, Starlight,” Homelander called as the Seven were standing up to leave, “I have some suggestions for you, too.”

“Sure!” Annie said brightly. Homelander’s smile grew almost mockingly wide.

“You’re just so cute and fun, aren’t you?” He said in an exaggeratedly excited tone. Annie flinched slightly and flushed.

“Um, I-“

“Deep, A-Train, hold back,” Homelander called, cutting her off. It was probably for the best, she had no idea what to say.

“Maeve told me you were a little… unsure… about the post-show,” Homelander said. A large, gloved hand wrapped itself around Annie’s shoulder. His grip was a little stronger than Annie was comfortable with.

“Just wasn’t what I was expecting, that’s all,” Annie said.

“I let you join the Seven because I knew you had _experience._ If I was wrong about that, I can find you a replacement. It’ll only be a slight inconvenience.” The way Homelander’s thin smile twitched made her think it would be a bit more than a ‘slight inconvenience’. Her instincts were kicking in again, she could feel sweat pricking at her back.

“I do have… experience,” Annie said, clearing her throat slightly. She’d just been hoping those days were behind her. Her eyes flickered to the Deep and A-Train, who were still hovering by the door. A week ago, she would have killed to be standing in a room with these three. Now, she was growing more uncomfortable by the second.

“Perfect!” Homelander let go of her shoulder and threw his hands open in an embracing motion, “don’t be shy, show us!”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, I can’t in good conscience let Diamond members pay for something _average_ , can I?” Homelander said, chuckling slightly to himself.

“Weren’t you listening? Bad reviews on the Seven reflect very poorly on me,” his voice was soft but his gaze was unwavering, “it’s especially true for the VIP shows. You understand that, don’t you? We’re all professionals.” Annie’s breath was shallow. She wiped sweat from her hands on her dress.

“What are you- What do you mean?”

“Fucking _Christ_ , you’re slow!” Homelander unbuckled his belt.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?” Annie took a step back, heart pounding. This couldn’t be happening, right? It was all in her head. This was _Homelander!_ The same guy that had those Support Our Troops charity shows and donated to children’s hospitals. There was no way…

“Relax! I’ll be benevolent,” Homelander shrugged, “you can take your pick. Any of the three of us.”

“And you want me to…” Annie shuddered and looked at the bulge in Homelander’s pants.

“Suck one of our dicks until we come, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. He sat back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. 

Annie’s eyes widened. She looked between Deep and A-Train, looking for a sign that this was a prank or something.

“And you’re gonna watch?” Annie asked slowly, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice. The way Homelander’s eyes hardened told her she hadn’t fully succeeded.

“Do you want to be in the Seven, or not?” He snapped, all the previous softness was gone now. He laughed harshly.

“I’m giving you a choice, Starlight! And let me let you in on a secret, you stuck up little bitch. You’re not gonna get a choice in the Diamond rooms. So if you can’t handle it, do me a favour and fuck off back to whatever Midwest shit hole you crawled out of,” Homelander spat. Annie flinched, her mouth dropping open slightly. Homelander took a deep breath and clenched his jaw, lips tightening slightly.

“Stop wasting my time and get on with it, already,” Homelander said. The unnerving smile was back now. Annie’s gaze switched to the Deep and A-Train again. The Deep was already palming himself and A-Train looked like a kid in a candy store. She didn’t want to pleasure any of them! These were her co-workers, people she wanted to respect her. She couldn’t turn it off like she did with clients, she had to work with these people every day. She opened her mouth to explain that, but something told her Homelander wouldn’t be sympathetic.

“For fuck’s sake! Deep, get over here,” Homelander ordered, “Starlight, you’re gonna suck him off like you would a Diamond member. A-Train, get out.”

The Deep hesitated before stepping forward, his eyes darting between Starlight and Homelander. It suddenly hit her. Homelander scared the shit out of him. He was almost as uncomfortable as she was.

Uncomfortable or not, Deep unbuckled the belt on his suit and pulled down his pants, taking his cock in his hands. He was already hard and quite big, at that. Starlight swallowed down the lump in her throat, old memories of her first gigs popping into her mind uninvited. _Just get it over with_. She let out her breath and wrapped one of her hands around the base of Deep’s dick. He let out a shuddering breath. Annie set her jaw and let her hand move up and down his shaft, drawing short moans from the Deep.

“Wait,” Homelander said, clicking his tongue, “I’m not feeling it. I don’t feel like you really _want_ his cock in your mouth, you know what I mean?” Annie felt the blood rush to her face. What the fuck?

“I do,” she lied. Homelander’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell him, then,” He challenged.

Annie swallowed down the humiliation and met Deep’s gaze. His eyes wandered to Homelander. Annie took a shaky breath.

“I want you,” she said, her hand moving a little faster along the Deep’s dick. She added her other hand, caressing his balls. Shame was burning behind her eyes.

“And?” Homelander prodded.

“And I want your cock in my mouth,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. Annie lowered herself to her knees and touched her tongue to the tip of Deep’s cock. At this point, a dick was a dick. It wasn’t her first rodeo. She closed her eyes and went to work, feeling Deep’s hand grip her hair and shudders ran through his body. He pushed himself deeper down her throat and her eyes watered.

“Look at him,” Homelander said. _Fuck you_. Annie opened her eyes. This was hardly any man’s best angle, even the Deep. She wished he would just come already so they could be done here. 

“I’m just not feeling the passion, Starlight!” Homelander said. He could hear that he was touching himself behind her. “Deep, are you feeling it?”

“I – uh- ohhh…” Deep sighed as Annie flicked her tongue around his tip, massaging his balls and the base of his dick with her hands. _Passion_ , _huh?_ She closed her eyes and faked a contented hum, taking more of his length down her throat. _Just come already for fuck’s sake._ As if on cue, the Deep’s hips bucked and she could taste the salty tang of cum.

Annie got to her feet and wiped the spit from her chin. She was shaking from adrenaline and embarrassment. She wanted to throw up. Homelander was still working on himself, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other gripping the table. He grinned.

“Welcome to the Seven, Starlight.”


	2. HOMELANDER: A Blast from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homelander puts on a show for someone from his past. Things get bloody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be very sporadic in the uploads since this is very much just my guilty pleasure. Enjoy, fuckers.  
> 
> 
> TW: A lot.

“Homelander! Homelander! Homelander!”

The crowd’s cheering was all Homelander could hear. It reverberated in his ears. It seemed to flow through his whole body like electricity. His fingers tingled and his cock twitched in his suit. He opened his eyes, taking it all in. The lights, the people, the adoration. He could never get tired of this. _You deserve this. They love you_. Homelander let the sounds of their love send waves through his body one last time before approaching the microphone.

“Thank you, thank you! But it’s too much,” He said. The perfect mix of humble, excited, and confident. He’d spent years working on it. The smile, the mannerisms, the tone, stuff like that wasn’t easy to get right. If it were, everyone would do it.

“As you know, this show wouldn’t be possible without all of you!”

“You’re my hero!” Someone shouted from one of the first few rows.

“Thank you, you’re all too kind! But you’re the real heroes! Tonight, 10% of the show’s revenue will go to a cause very dear to me, the Wounded Veteran’s Legion.”

The crowd erupted once again and Homelander let the adrenaline rush to his head. He could feel himself getting hard.

“Now, enough of me! Who wants to see the rest of the Seven?” Homelander gestured to where Black Noir was making his entrance. The crowd grew even louder and Homelander felt a prick of anger in his chest. _They’re cheering for you, too, you’re part of the Seven._ He reminded himself and took a deep breath.

Despite Homelander’s best efforts, his eyes gravitated towards the VIP section. At every show, he had to look. Madelyn gave him an approving nod from the booth and warmth flooded his chest. Her attention was quickly snatched away by one of the VIP’s sitting next to her. He was a thick-necked man in a black suit. There was a sheen of sweat on his round face and something irritatingly familiar about his crooked nose. Fuck that guy. What could possibly be more important than watching him introduce Black Noir?

Homelander swallowed down his anger and exited, waving and smiling to the crowd. He picked a different exit path than usual. This one passed closest to the VIP booths. The lights took an extra beat to catch up with his unscripted movements. That should grab Madelyn’s attention. But it didn’t. She was still whispering to that _stupid fat fuck_ next to her. Homelander hated him and his stupid sweaty face and stupid rose-shaped pin the size of a golf ball. Why the fuck was he familiar? And why the _fucking fuck_ was Madelyn talking to him instead of watching the show?

Homelander had to hold onto the wall backstage to steady himself. _Madelyn hates it when you’re like this. Stop it. For fucks sake, stop it!_ He clenched his jaw, scraping his teeth along his bottom lip until it hurt. He’d talk to her. Very low-key. Super casual. She wouldn’t even have to know he was upset, just… He couldn’t even put a finger on what he wanted exactly, just that he had to talk to her. He’d figure out what he wanted to say on the way to the VIP section.

“Great show, Homelander, do you want water, or-?”

“Fuck off, Ashley,” Homelander said. Ashley cleared her throat and clutched her clipboard even tighter, “I need to get to the VIP booth.”

“Not until after the show, you know the rules,” Ashley said. She reminded him of a mouse, but somehow uglier and more annoying.

“Fuck the rules, I need to see Madelyn.”

“I’ll let her know you want to talk to her and she’ll come see you before the post-show, but I can’t bring you up there. You know that.”

Useless fucking bitch.

The VIP booth wasn’t hard to find. Picking the lock to the restricted hallway was annoying, not to mention slightly degrading, but it was necessary. Homelander knew exactly which booth to look for. Madelyn always sat in the same spot. He could hear her laughing through the door. So the rose-pin fucker was funny, too? Delightful.

Homelander rapped on the door. He still hadn’t decided on what to say, but hoped something would pop into his head sooner rather than later.

“Homelander? What are you doing?” Madelyn asked. Her tone was clipped. Oh, fuck. She was angry.

“I need to --“ Homelander’s eyes wandered to the man with the rose pin. He remembered seeing that pin on a man at least a decade younger, with a nose that was straight right up until… oh shit. Oh _you’re shitting me_. Red-hot anger seared across Homelander’s chest. Almost immediately, Madelyn had pushed him into the hallway and shut the door behind them.

“What is wrong with you?” She demanded.

“What the _fuck_ is he doing here?”

“Who?”

“That fucker – rose pin, ugly motherfucking-“

“Calm down,” Madelyn placed a hand on his bicep. Homelander leaned into the touch, some of his anger fading.

“I know him. Get him out of here.”

“He’s a VIP,” Madelyn said, her voice measured, “Diamond membership. I can’t _get him out_.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No,” her hand moved up and down his arm, her fingers making soothing half-circles through his suit, “I can’t.”

“I’m not doing the post-show if he’s there!” Homelander broke from her touch. Madelyn sighed and her gaze searched him. That was his last card to play and they both knew it.

“When you say you know this man, you mean from _before_ , don’t you?” Madelyn asked. Homelander had to close his eyes against the sudden onslaught of emotions. _No, no, fuck off._ He forced them out of the forefront of his mind. Hazy images of Dr. Vogelbaum and his numerous _friends_ clawed at the edges of his consciousness, trying to force their way in.

“I want him _gone_ ,” Homelander said. He’d tried to sound insistent, maybe even intimidating, but the way Madelyn’s face softened told him it hadn’t worked.

“Do you remember when we met?” Madelyn asked softly. She took a step towards him, fingers reaching up to brush his hair. Where her fingers touched his skin was the only part of his body that felt alive. The rest was cold, lifeless. He wanted nothing more than to simply melt into her and stay there forever.

“I know what you’re doing,” Homelander said.

“My _sweet boy_ ,” she crooned. Homelander couldn’t help the sigh escaping his lips or the way the tension in his shoulders seemed to seep into her touch, “we started this thing from nothing, you and me. You remember the first building, before Vought bought us out? That one shitty stage and the pole that would –“

“I said: I know what you’re doing,” Homelander repeated. This time she stopped. Her eyes narrowed. He could see the wheels spinning in her head, trying to figure out which approach to take. How to best appease him.

“I’ll take care of you,” Madelyn said, placing both her hands on Homelander’s face. Her thumb traced along his clenched jaw, “haven’t I always?” He made a disgruntled sound but his brain wasn’t forming words, just vague and useless thoughts.

“You have been _so, so good._ This will be hard for you, but we’ve made so many sacrifices to get here. But I need one more from you. Tonight. Stay away from that man. Can you do that?”

Homelander couldn’t meet her gaze. Her stared up at the ceiling, wishing he could hide the emotion on his face. He could feel his eyes glistening, betraying his efforts.

“You’re better than him, so much better,” Madelyn said, “he should mean nothing to you. You are above him,” She forced his head down to meet her eyes, “you are a god among men. He is _puny_ compared to you.” Homelander let her words wash over him. _He is nothing. He means nothing to me._ He repeated the words to himself, but the anger was still there, just as strong as before. He stared at Madelyn’s lips, longing to feel them on his.

Homelander leaned in.

“Ah-ah,” Madelyn said, placing a hand solidly on his chest, pushing him away, “after the post-show, if everything goes smoothly.”

\-----------

Even Homelander had to admit the new girl, Starlight, was great on the pole. She had that small-town charm, too, that these types of clients loved. He heard her feed them lines about how she danced to pay her way through college. Smart. They ate that shit up.

Homelander usually felt the most alive in the post-show. There were no screaming crowds, but this type of attention was different. They undressed him with their eyes, visceral lust coming off them in waves. It made him smile. Here they were, the richest and most powerful people in the country, creaming their jeans at the thought of taking him into a private room. His soldier character was a particular favourite amongst politicians and military officers. Nothing more fuckable than an American hero, right?

Tonight, though, it was different. Homelander was distracted, out of character. Every person in his peripheral was that fucker with the rose pin, and his whole demeanor would change. Adrenaline would fire up his nervous system with a chorus of _try me, motherfucker, I dare you_. Everyone had some reason to piss him off (not that that was entirely unusual, but usually not this pronounced). But where a woman screaming that she wanted to fuck him would usually make Homelander buzz with contentment, tonight it made him want to smash her head against the stage until she finally shut up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Homelander saw a Diamond regular lead Maeve behind the black curtain of the private rooms. Sometimes he could rationalize that it was business and he had no reason to be angry or jealous, but tonight the envy came quickly and wedged itself right in the middle of his thoughts. _Usually_ , on a normal night when he wasn’t zoning out and pausing in the middle of his set like a rookie on fucking opioids, Homelander had people practically begging for a private room at this point in the night. _You fucked up. You stupid piece of shit, nobody fucking wants you._ Homelander could feel himself spiraling. It was a familiar feeling; heaviness in his chest but lightness in his head. It was like hanging off the edge of a rollercoaster but never falling.

The same woman from earlier flashed a Diamond club badge. He told her to fuck off. Madelyn wouldn’t like that, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was play some average-looking bitch’s dead military husband for a night. He knew exactly the type just by looking at her.

Ashley’s sour mug appeared in the corner of his eye and he wished she’d say something. He was itching to tell her where to stuff it. But with the amount of money he single-handedly brought to Vought Entertainment, Homelander knew he was virtually untouchable to someone like Ashley. She waved her hands in a way that was clearly begging him to put in a bit more effort for the Diamond members. Homelander could swear she’d shove her clipboard up her pussy if a Diamond member asked her to, that’s how much of a hard-on she had for their money and reviews.

Homelander finished his set by removing the army fatigue pants to reveal a tight pair of American flag trunks. The audience always ate that shit up. He gave them a while to admire his body, letting the palpable lust boost his ego. None of them were high enough rollers to make Homelander’s night significantly more interesting, so he gave his regular goodbye and exited backstage.

“Again? Are you kidding me, Homelander?” Ashley accosted him as he pulled on a robe. He had to remind himself Madelyn would be disappointed in him if he punched her in her stupid face.

“They’re not worth my time,” he shrugged.

“Some of them are paying us… a lot of fucking money for _your time_ ,” Ashley said, her hands shaking.

“That’s not my problem,” Homelander said with a smile. He chuckled to himself. Ashley was positively fuming. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t enjoying it. Homelander thought he could hear her cuss him out under her breath.

He took a protein shake out of the fridge and downed a handful of Advil and Ambien. He peeked out of the backstage area to where the last of the Seven were finishing their sets and leading members to the private rooms. _There you are_. Madelyn had told Homelander to stay away from the man with the rose pin, he knew that. But the most important part to her was no bad publicity, so she wouldn’t _really_ care whether or not he listened to that tiny detail, would she?

Homelander made eye contact with the rose pin man and he could see his round, shiny face break into a small smile. The man tapped his Diamond member badge and Homelander inclined his head towards his private room. _Sorry, Madelyn._ He wasn’t really, though.

Homelander paused as he opened the curtain, eyes flickering to the camera in the corner. _Nope._ He opened the chest of _special items_ in the corner and extracted a bottle of lube. He’d learned this trick a long time ago and it never failed. He put a thin layer on the camera lens. It would blur the footage just enough that faces and specifics were indecipherable.

“Hard to get your attention,” the rose pin man appeared in the doorway, already undoing his belt buckle. _Not wasting any time, I see._

“Have to make you work for it somehow, don’t I?” Homelander said. He searched the man’s eyes for a flicker of recognition, guilt, anything that would let him know he’d made the same connection Homelander had. He found no such thing. Tension rose in his back, knotting the base of his neck. _Oh no, that won’t do_.

“Hm,” the man said. He didn’t strike Homelander as the type to want to work for anything of this nature. He certainly hadn’t in the past. Rose-pin removed his jacket and licked his lips. It took a lot of Homelander’s self-control to hide his disgust. The man undid Homelander’s robe and slid meaty fingers under the waistband of his trunks, feeling the hard muscle of Homelander’s ass.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he breathed. Rose-pin pulled at the waistband even more, exposing Homelander’s cock. He let out an appreciative moan at the size. Homelander leaned in to whisper next to the man’s ear.

“Wouldn’t I be even hotter if I were underage?” Homelander whispered in his most sultry tone. The man flinched back, removing his hand from Homelander’s dick.

“What the fuck?”

Homelander couldn’t fight the manic smile that lit up his features, not that he particularly wanted to.

“What?” Homelander asked, expertly undoing the buttons on the man’s silk dress shirt. The material felt expensive. He paused and ripped the rest open, buttons falling on the floor, “wouldn’t I?”

Homelander let his eyes unfocus into the doe-eyed innocent gaze he knew some of these men couldn’t resist. His instincts were right. Rose-pin man’s dick was bulging in his trousers. The man made cautious eye contact, but his pupils dilated noticeably in a way that told Homelander _exactly_ what he was picturing. He smiled to himself.

“Come here,” the man was breathing heavily now. He fumbled with his pants. Homelander clicked his tongue and did it for him. _Hmm. Of course your dick is small._ He wondered how long it would take for the recognition to kick in. Did he need to get on his knees? How about cry? Would that do it?

Homelander let his hands wander down the man’s soft, pudgy frame. Ugh, the shit he did for revenge. He ran his tongue up the man’s cock, feeling his shudder under his touch. That part was always rewarding, no matter who it was. He could feel the man’s heart pounding and sweaty fingers gripping his soft blonde hair.

“Fuck,” the man breathed. _And, now._ Homelander clamped his jaw shut, hard enough to rip a scream from the rose-pin man’s throat. Those beady eyes stared in confusion above the crooked nose that Homelander distinctly remembered breaking.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He wailed, clutching his injured cock. Homelander wiped his mouth.

“Oh,” he said, “did I hurt you?”

“I _paid_ for you!” The man howled, “and this is how-“

“Ah-ah-ah,” Homelander stopped him, “you paid for the Vought experience. You didn’t pay for me.” Homelander grabbed a handful of the man’s expensive shirt. His eyes flickered to his jacket, that stupid rose pin glinting from its place on the chair. Homelander snatched it with his second hand, turning it over. He hated that ugly thing.

“Get off me. Wait until I tell Madelyn about-“ Homelander let out his breath and stabbed the pin into the man’s chest. He wanted him wearing it for this. The resulting scream was piercing.

The next thing he knew, Homelander had bashed the man’s head against the wall. Not once, but three times. His already crooked nose was shattered and spurting out blood, which dripped into the man’s mouth as he screamed. He dropped to the floor, clutching his face. Homelander turned him over, pressing his heel into the man’s thick neck.

“When you see Dr. Vogelbaum in hell, give him my best,” Homelander said.

_There it is_. There was the widening of the eyes and immediate regret he’d been waiting for all night. Homelander swiftly drove his heel into the man’s face, feeling bone crack and blood spray on his clothes and all the way to his face. Homelander's heart was pounding in his chest and adrenaline was making his entire body tremble slightly. The man choked on his own blood as he tried to cry for help. Homelander could see the mess of flesh and broken bones that he assumed to be where his tongue was moving as screamed, but only a low, wet gargling sound came out.

Homelander knelt on top of him and crushed his what was left of his skull against the ground with a satisfying crunch. It was a smashed watermelon in his hands now, blood and bits of pink brain matter splattered across the floor. Homelander could taste it in his mouth. 

_Well fuck_ , Homelander thought _, Madelyn will be pissed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> until next time! Suggestions and feedback always appreciated.


	3. MAEVE: Tricks of the Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starlight has a bad night, and Maeve teaches her a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short one until I sort out a few things for the next big(ger) chapter :)
> 
> Thanks SuperShadow2018 for the suggestion! Really liked the idea.
> 
> Note: this one takes place on the same night as chapter 2

Maeve kept an eye on Starlight her first few nights. She was good, no doubt about it. It would seem Lamplighter had taught her a thing or two at the  _ Harlequin _ . Nevertheless, she had that glimmer of innocence that would be temptingly easy to shatter. God only knew some of the Diamond members had the potential to do just that. Call her sentimental, or maybe even  _ protective _ , but something about that didn’t sit right with Maeve. 

Near the end of her set, Maeve caught a regular’s eye. She only knew him as Vlad. He always wanted the same thing and was one of her best tippers.  _ My lucky day, I guess _ . It also helped that he was objectively attractive, which was annoyingly rare. 

Maeve couldn’t help but let her eyes wander to Homelander’s stage. He was putting on a good show, like always, but something was missing. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was high. There it was again, that protective prickle in her chest.  _ Nope. Not for him _ , she scolded herself. Maeve forced her attention back on the pole, even though she could perform these moves in her sleep at this point. As the last of her costume came off, she crawled across the stage to where Vlad was sipping his vodka, as usual. She reached over and took a sip of his drink. His eyes narrowed with lust and playful anger. 

“That’s stealing,” he whispered, taking a sip himself. 

“Hmm,” Maeve said, “and how do you propose I make it up to you?”

“I have a few ideas,” Vlad grinned, his eyes grazing her toned, athletic figure.

Out of the corner of Maeve’s eye, she saw Starlight heading to her private room, closely followed by a regular, some cyber company CEO.  _ Fuck, not that one. _ It shouldn’t bother her, but it did. That man had been a lot to handle, even for Maeve. He would eat Starlight alive.  _ Not your problem, she’s an adult for fuck’s sake _ . 

It turned out Vlad’s ideas weren’t any more creative today than in the past. It was your standard bondage, plus some dom-sub role reversal both of them found positively infuriating yet invigorating. It was rare for Maeve to genuinely enjoy herself while working, but this one was the exception. Today was a great day. 

Maeve cleaned herself up on the way to her dressing room, dreaming of a hot shower and a cigarette. As soon as the door of her dressing room closed, she dropped into the couch and let out a long sigh. Everything hurt. At this point it was impossible to tell if the pain was from the show or from the sex. Either way was fine with her. A bit of pain was comforting, and made Maeve feel more alive. 

She poured herself a bath, and arranged a pack of cigarettes and a lighter next to it in preparation. It was a ritual on the really good or really bad nights. There was nothing quite like slipping into a hot bath after a tough show and some rough sex. Maeve let out a moan as the hot water caressed her body, her tension slowly ebbing away. Until some asshole knocked on the door. 

“Not now, go away,” Maeve said, lighting her cigarette. The first drag was heaven. God, being addicted to something had its perks sometimes. Fulfilling a desperate need was so much more satisfying than acting on a whim. The knocking persisted. 

“I said: FUCK OFF!” Maeve yelled around her cigarette. It was probably Ashley. That bitch could never seem to leave the Seven alone for a damn second. 

“Maeve?” The voice on the other side of the door was quiet and shaky, but undoubtedly Starlight’s. Ugh, fuck. The universe couldn’t let her just have a good day, huh? Some shit had to happen. 

“What?” 

It stayed silent for a while, and Maeve could feel the tension in her neck and shoulders coming back. 

“C-can I come in?” Starlight asked, “Please?”

Maeve let out a long sigh and took another drag. 

“Fucking hell,” she whispered to herself and she pushed herself out of the warm tub and into the cold bathroom air. Reaching for her towel seemed like too much effort, so she walked to the door naked and dripping water. 

“This better be important,” Maeve grumbled, unlocking the door. Starlight’s face was red and puffy, her eyes shining with tears. She was wrapped in one of the decorative blankets from the post-show room, clutching it around herself with shaking hands. 

“Jesus,” Maeve breathed, “what happened to you?” Starlight shook her head. The kid seemed to be in shock. Something inside Maeve softened, remembering when it had been her in that position. You never forget your first bad night with Vought. 

“Can I have some of that?” Starlight gestured to Maeve’s cigarette. Maeve’s eyebrows rose. 

“You smoke?” She asked.

“I do today,” Starlight answered.

“Fair enough,” Maeve handed her the cigarette and watched her take a long drag. She coughed a few times before handing it back. Starlight was still shaking her head and gripping the blanket like it was threatening to run away. 

“Rough night?” Maeve asked. Starlight dropped onto the couch and immediately winced. She avoided Maeve’s eye contact. 

“Do you have beer?” Starlight asked. Maeve obliged and tossed her one. She drank it faster than Maeve had expected. 

“I knew that client,” Maeve said, “he’s not an easy one to handle.”

“What the fuck is this place?” Starlight was mostly talking to herself, but Maeve’s stomach knotted slightly. She’d definitely asked herself that on many occasions at the start. 

“It gets better,” Maeve lied. 

“Does it?” Starlight asked with wet eyes. Maeve sighed. She’d figure the truth out one way or another. 

“Not really. But you get used to it.”

Starlight’s face crumpled slightly and she sobbed into the blanket. Maeve fought the urge to sneak away and get back to her bathtub, which was likely lukewarm by now. So much for her great night. 

“And if I don’t want to get used to it?” 

“No one’s forcing you to stay in the Seven,” Maeve said. Though they would ruin your professional reputation and make it nearly impossible to find another job of the same caliber, Maeve chose to keep that part to herself. 

“So I could just quit? Right now?” Starlight asked. It seemed like more of a test than an actual question. Maeve straightened up slightly. 

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she shrugged, “but Madelyn Stillwell isn’t exactly a great person to piss of.”

“Or Homelander,” Starlight added miserably. 

“Or Homelander.” 

She was getting it now. Slowly, that was for sure, but Maeve could see it sinking in. To leave the Seven was professional suicide, but it was possible. 

“There are good clients too, you know,” Maeve said, remembering her great nights with Vlad and some of her other favourite clients. “Some of the best sex I’ve ever had has been on the clock. They’re not all like…” she’d forgotten the fucker’s name. 

“I can’t do that again,” Starlight shuddered and finished her beer. 

“Did he make you pretend to be scared of him and play along with his little rape fantasy?” Maeve asked. 

“It didn’t feel like pretending,” Starlight clutched the blanket even tighter. Yeah. Maeve knew that feeling. 

“It feels like whatever you want it to feel like if you train yourself properly,” Maeve said. It was a fragile illusion, but Maeve found that telling herself she was in control of every situation enough times would eventually make it feel true. 

“How?”

_ Fuck _ . Now was not the time for this. Maeve was tired and just wanted to go to bed at this point. 

“Have you ever slept with another woman?” Maeve asked. 

“No,” Starlight said. Her eyes were wide and confused again. No wonder she attracted the weirdos, she was practically a child. That was dangerous with this crowd. 

“Okay,” Maeve said, “well it will feel like whatever you want it to feel like. Just tell yourself:  _ this is what I want. I am in control.”  _ Starlight looked confused again and Maeve swore under her breath. Pretty, but not very smart. Those types always got on Maeve’s nerves. 

“Say it.”

“This is what I want. I am in control?” Starlight said. 

“It’s not a question,” Maeve said. She pressed her lips to Starlight’s, gently, but not uncharacteristically so. She pulled back a bit initially, but seemed to ease into the familiar feeling. 

“So how did that feel?” 

“I don’t know, different, I guess-”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

“Uhh. It was what I wanted. I was in control?”

“Still not a question.”

“It was what I wanted. I was in control.”

“There you go,” Maeve said. Maeve pulled Starlight towards her by her blonde curls and pulled the blanket off her shoulders. She was wearing the last layer of her show outfit, but it was torn off at the left shoulder. Starlight inhaled sharply as Maeve’s hand wandered down the curves of her body. 

“How about now?” Maeve whispered. Starlight was blinking a million times a second, her brain seemed to be in a small-town Christian girl overload. 

“I want this. I’m in control,” Starlight whispered. This time, she initiated the kiss.  _ There we go _ . Maeve’s fingers found their way under the waistband of Starlight’s costume bottoms, feeling the slight prickle of shaved pubic hair. Starlight inhaled sharply, but kept muttering to herself what Maeve assumed to be her own iteration of Maeve’s mantra. Maeve could feel Starlight growing more confident against her touch, rubbing her wet pussy against Maeve’s fingers. 

Maeve gladly obliged and circled two fingers around Starlight’s lips, drawing a shudder from the petite blonde. God, she was hot. There was no doubt about that. She was even hotter when her eyes were rolling back from the rush of pleasure brought on by Maeve’s touch. Maeve was no stranger to fingering, she might even call herself a bit of an expert. Within minutes, Starlight was a sweaty, whimpering mess, her body convulsing as the waves of orgasm passed through her spine. 

Starlight’s eyes were unfocused and bright as they found Maeve. Maeve couldn’t hide the small smile that creeped across her features at the sight of Starlight’s flushed, amazed face. Her blonde hair was sticking to her face from the sweat. 

“Holy - How did you- I don’t-” 

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn,” Maeve said. Something like pride was swelling in her chest, but she couldn’t tell whether it was coming from making Starlight orgasm or simply making her smile.  _ Fuck, you’re getting soft _ . 

Maeve could feel the energy draining from her body. She needed sleep. She pushed off from the couch, but felt a hand wrap around her wrist.  _ Dammit. Fine _ . 

“Don’t get used to this,” Maeve said, squeezing herself between the couch and Starlight. Starlight snuggled in contently, smiling in sleepy post-orgasm bliss. Maeve had to remind herself, too, not to get used to this. 


	4. BUTCHER/HOMELANDER: A Bit of a Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy Butcher is placed on the case of his dreams. However, things aren't going as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing fake-nice Homelander is so much fun. So are interrogation scenes with two of my favourite assholes. Enjoy.

**BUTCHER**

Billy Butcher had been praying for a call like this one. It seemed whatever’s up there had decided not to be a cunt for once. A murder at Vought Entertainment. The fucking heavens had opened up and shat this out on a golden platter just for him. 

“Look at this shit,” he muttered to himself as the forensics team took samples of the mess. His partner, MM, looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there. 

“Whoever did this was pissed off,” MM said. Billy nodded. 

“Like a fuckin’ slaughterhouse,” Billy said, “diabolical.” 

“Don’t sound so impressed, Butcher,” MM said. Billy chuckled to himself. He wasn’t impressed, he was positively gleeful. Here was his chance to nail these fuckers, or at least one of them. 

“Whose…” Billy gestured, trying to find the right word, “ _fuck closet_ is this?” 

“Homelander’s,” MM said. Billy tried his very best not to grin. _Gotcha, motherfucker_. MM glared at him. 

“You know, I shouldn’t have to say this, but don’t let this get personal,” MM said, “you’re already lucky you were assigned to this case. Don’t fuck it up.” 

“Maybe crawl out of my asshole for once, MM,” Billy said. 

He tilted his head as he surveyed the pool of congealed blood and clumps of brain matter on the floor. 

“How many times you reckon you’d have to slam a guy’s head into the ground to make it do _that_?” Billy asked. MM sighed. 

“Too many,” he said. MM knelt down to take a closer look at the pool of blood and brain matter sinking into the carpet. 

"D'you watch that show I told you about, yet?" MM asked. 

"Yeah, I started it with the missus the other night," Billy nodded.

"And?" MM asked. Butcher clicked his tongue.

"Let me get this straight. The metal geezer's running from some cunt who looks just like some other cunt who thinks the wrinkly little green ball bag is some sort of space wizard?"

"Hey now, that wrinkly green ballbag is baby Yoda and a national treasure," MM said, "but essentially, yeah."

"Becca likes it," Butcher said, a bit gruffly. He inclined his head towards the corner of the room.

“Security footage?” Billy gestured to the camera.

“Forensics got it, but knowing Vought, I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” MM said. 

“Hmm. Slimy cunts,” Billy grumbled, “how about the hallways? Main room?”

“Yup. The CCTV outside, too, in case someone snuck in,” MM said. Billy couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that came out of him. 

“What?”

“Someone _snuck in_. What for? Thought he'd stop in for some tits and brains?” Billy said, inclining his head to the carnage. MM sighed again and looked at him with disappointment in his eyes. 

“Let me guess, you already have a suspect,” MM said. 

“It’s his fuckin’ room, mate, how much more obvious does it have to be?” 

“That won’t hold in court, and you know it,” MM said.

“Thanks for reminding me, detective, cause clearly I don’t know my arse from my elbow,” Billy’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. _Fucking insulting_. 

“There’s gotta be something. No one makes this much of a mess without leaving a trace,” MM said. 

“Probably jerked off on the guy,” Billy said. MM huffed but it turned into a chuckle. 

“For once, I hope you’re right. Could really use a win.”

  
  


**HOMELANDER**

“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” Homelander asked. He’d been up for the past 3 days straight after that night went off the rails, and his irritability level was dangerously high. He could hear the hum of the shitty light bulbs, the shitty chairs were hurting his ass, and he’d had nothing to eat in the past 36 hours but a _shitty_ vending machine protein bar. Homelander bit the inside of his lip, letting the pain focus him. 

“Not at all,” the taller and burlier of the two detectives said. Homelander chuckled. _Motherfucker._

“I already gave my statement. If you’re not going to charge me, you’ll have to let me go,” Homelander said. He kept his tone light and casual. The look on the bearded detective’s face told him he was well aware of that already.

“Your DNA was found at the scene,” the detective said, getting irritatingly close to Homelander’s face. Butcher, was it? Fuck, that was his name, right?

“That’s hardly surprising considering I _work_ there,” Homelander spat. He could feel the anger rising and held his breath to control it. His heart was racing, but they didn’t know that. He’d been over it with Madelyn a million times. The footage was gone, his DNA wasn’t an issue, and once they analyzed the rest… Really, all he had to do was keep it together for the next 12 hours. Keep face. 

“I do appreciate how thorough you’re being, though,” Homelander said through gritted teeth, “gives me hope in the justice system. You're real heroes.” 

“You motherfucker,” Detective Butcher snarled, laughing darkly to himself. Homelander fought not to grin and felt the blood rush to his face and his cock. _Huh_. 

“How’d the camera footage go missing?” The other detective asked. Homelander had definitely forgotten that one’s name. Homelander clicked his tongue.

“I’ve answered this question at least 5 times. I’m not in the IT department, but apparently, there was a system-wide glitch. Wiped all the footage from the last 24 hours. Really too bad.”

“No backups?” 

“Oh, come on now. Why would I know the answer to that question?” Homelander said. 

“You ever re-watch footage, Cap?” Butcher asked. Homelander sighed. The detective had taken to calling him ‘Cap’ because of his stage persona’s likeness to Captain America. _Wal-Mart Captain America_ , he’d called him. He could headbutt him right now if he really wanted to, that’s how close he was sitting. Definitely wouldn’t help his whole innocent image, but it would be so, so satisfying. 

“I’m not following,” Homelander said.

“You know, you rewatch it, jerk off to it?” Butcher asked. Homelander had to laugh a bit. _Of course._ Mostly Maeve’s footage, but occasionally his own or one of the other members', too.

“Why would I do that?”

Detective Butcher looked over at the other one and raised his eyebrows. 

“Why not? Just look at this hot piece of ass,” Butcher placed pictures of some of Homelander’s clients on the table, seemingly choosing the oldest and least attractive first. He inwardly cringed. 

Butcher put down photos of CEO’s, executives, military officers, politicians, and even foreign royals. He made a show out of running out of space on the table. Was this supposed to embarrass him? That the most powerful people in the world _paid_ _thousands_ for his body? 

“You got a daddy kink or something, Cap? A loose skin fetish?” Butcher asked. Homelander’s stomach clenched and he started seriously revisiting that headbutting idea.

“Rich and powerful people just happen to be old, white men. A consequence of the society we live in,” Homelander said. He attempted a smooth, disarming smile, but he was too tired to force it to reach his eyes. 

“This one was a real ugly cunt, huh?” Butcher said, tapping the photo of the rose-pin man. This fucker was enjoying this. Homelander clicked his tongue and shrugged slightly. 

“Some might even say he looked better like _this_ ,” Butcher said, laying another few pictures on the table. This time, they were of the same man’s bashed-in and unrecognizable face. The photos were from the morgue, the blood removed from the man’s body and the skin a sickly shade of gray. Homelander made a show of turning his head away and groaning slightly. Though, if Homelander was honest, he did look better that way. 

“Why’d you cut his dick off, Cap?” Butcher asked. That had been Madelyn’s idea. So they couldn’t use the bite mark to identify him. 

“As I said in my statement, I didn’t even go into a private room that night. Ashley can confirm that,” Homelander said. An edge was creeping into his voice now, the persona getting harder and harder to keep up. 

“Right. I’m sure Vought lets their favourite cash cow skip out on big nights,” Butcher said. _Go fuck yourself._

“They let their _headliner_ do what he wants if they want to keep him around,” Homelander snapped. 

“Like murder VIP clients?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Butcher exclaimed, “knew you had more bite to ya.” Homelander smiled at the irony of his words. 

“So tell me, cause I’m interested, what’s it like being the Vought golden boy?” Butcher asked. _Where the fuck are you going with this?_

“How is that relevant, detective?” Homelander asked.

“I’d imagine it’s pretty nice, eh? Having a whole corporation cleaning up your messes for you,” Butcher said. Homelander rolled his eyes. This was a waste of his fucking time. 

“Who are you even, without Vought?” Butcher asked, “no driver’s license, home address, passport… Honestly, we couldn’t even figure out what your real name is,” _And you won’t_ , “never seen anything like it. It’s like you magically appeared out of thin air just to be their bitch.” 

Homelander straightened, reminding himself of every calming technique Madelyn had ever taught him. _Count to ten. Hold your breath and let it out slowly. Pinch your pressure point._ He didn’t do any of them, just glared daggers at the detective. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I take back what I said about having faith in the justice system,” Homelander said. 

“Now that you mention it, I guess you got on the grid a bit before the Vought days. Might’ve even seen you once, some old place outside the city called… ah, what was it again? Something real classy. MM, help me out?” _Oh, fuck you._

“Beef?” The other one said.

“YES! BEEF! A fucking strip joint called _Beef_! Doesn’t get much better than that, eh?” Butcher was grinning so hard it looked like his jaw was threatening to crack. He laughed hard for an excessive amount of time, slapping the table and wiping away tears. If Butcher’s goal was to piss him off, he was definitely getting closer to the mark. Homelander clenched and unclenched his fists. 

“Funny. I make more in one night than you do in a year,” Homelander’s delivery was calm, but his skin was burning with rage and humiliation. 

“Amazing what you can do when you abandon self-respect,” Butcher said. Homelander’s hands twitched to hit him before his brain had even processed the intention. Butcher guffawed. 

“Looks like the handcuffs were necessary, after all,” Butcher said. Homelander bit his cheek. His eyes stung from the pain but he could feel the anger subsiding to a controllable level, temporarily shoved aside. He was still doing just as Madelyn had said. He was keeping them talking and distracted for 12 more hours until they had to let him go. Maybe after this, she’d forgive him for this PR nightmare. He couldn’t stand the disappointment in her eyes any longer. 

“But, really, Cap, how do you end up here without a trace of even _existing_? Where the fuck’s a kid gotta come from to never have played little league or gone to school, huh?” Butcher asked. “You play little league, MM?” He asked the black detective. 

“I was more of a football kid,” he said. Homelander sucked his teeth. 12 more hours was a long time with these fucking bozos. 

“Right. What about you, Cap? What’d you do as a kid? Can’t have materialized into a stripper.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Homelander deflected. The last thing he wanted to do was explain his clusterfuck of a childhood with someone like Butcher. 

“I forgot you have places to be, cocks to suck,” Butcher said, “can’t be wasting your precious time, eh?” 

“I'd prefer that you didn't,” Homelander said. Butcher looked visibly disappointed he hadn’t gotten further under Homelander’s skin with that comment. 

“Who’s your most high-profile client?” The black detective asked, changing the subject.

“Hard to say.” _Russian President. Easy._

“Where would the Nebraska State Governor rank on the list?”

“Pretty low. Why?” Homelander asked. Here we go. Now it was getting interesting. How dumb should he play this, exactly? It was a tough balance. He pretended to pause and think for a moment, then looked at Butcher. “That was 5 years ago. A bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” 

“What’s a bit of a stretch?” Now he was the one playing dumb. Fuck it, Homelander would bite. 

“I know what you’re getting at. The Nebraska Governor went missing on a weekend trip here in Vegas 5 or 6 years ago. It was all over the paper,” Homelander said, impressed by the boredom in his own voice, “and, what? Since he saw one of our shows you think I…” 

“Offed him, yeah,” Butcher said. Homelander almost wanted to give him that one. Honestly, he’d covered that one up much better so it was almost impressive that he’d made that link. Unfortunately for him, completely unprovable, but still impressive. But maybe he should have brought that Vought lawyer, after all.

“And why is that?” Homelander asked, genuinely curious. Butcher narrowed his eyes. That told Homelander all he really needed to know. He didn’t actually have anything on him, just hated him. 

“What did I do to you? Fuck your wife? Your dad?” Homelander asked. Now it was Butcher’s turn to be pissed. The black detective stepped in, nudging Butcher in a way that was clearly telling him to cool off for a little bit. Whatever it was, it was probably pretty bad. Oops. 

“Did you see anyone new that night? Someone strange who wasn’t a Diamond member?” 

“A few. There are non-members most nights. Tourists mostly,” Homelander said. 

“Did you see Mr.Rosenberg talk to anyone that night? Argue with anyone?” _Rosenberg_. He'd forgotten the man's name, but it was fitting. 

“That wasn’t exactly my first priority in the middle of a show,” Homelander said. 

“Of course. But… anything at all?”

“Let me think… I was the last of the Seven to finish my set... and there were only three clients in there when I left. One was a regular, some admiral’s wife. One was Rosenberg, and the last one I didn’t know.”

“And they would have had access to the private rooms?”

“They had Diamond passes, so yes,” Homelander said. He clicked his tongue and sighed dramatically, “ I’m sorry, detectives, I wish I could be more helpful.”

“No, you don’t, you cunt,” Butcher said. _No, I really don’t_. 

“Butcher,” the other detective said. He mouthed something and Butcher left, slamming the door behind him. 

“You want this all to go away. I can tell,” The black detective said softly. _No shit_ . “Performing, your image, it’s probably the only thing that means anything to you. I get that,” _The hell you do_ , “but this guy had a family and if you know anything that you’re not telling us, it keeps that family from getting the closure they need.” 

That was cute. It made Homelander want to throw up in his mouth to imagine that piece of shit with a family, but the attempt to appeal to Homelander’s humanity was truly adorable. It was especially cute that the detective thought that would work. Homelander must be a better liar than he realized. 

“I already told you everything I remember. I wish I could be more helpful, I really do. For that man’s family.” He offered a sad smile. _And... end scene._

Homelander gave the one-way glass a little wink as he was left alone, knowing Detective Butcher was scowling on the other side. In another 12 hours, he’d be back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I've said before, I'm writing this as a guilty pleasure for myself with no real direction in mind, so suggestions are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance, shit's gonna get hella dark


End file.
